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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/30022125">the distance we would go (to a place in-between)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/cosmofire/pseuds/cosmofire'>cosmofire</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>food for the dnfers [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - College/University, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Awkward Crush, Cuddling &amp; Snuggling, Fluff, Late Night Conversations, M/M, Mutual Pining, Stargazing, george is a stubborn bastard and dream is an oblivious idiot, pov switch but like in a good way, sapnap is a poggers wingman</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 22:48:22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>9,047</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/30022125</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/cosmofire/pseuds/cosmofire</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p></p><blockquote>
  <p>    <i>The Moon is constant, reliable, straightforward.<br/>The Sun is fiery, bright, spontaneous.</i></p>
  <p>    <i>    Like the Moon, George glows.</i><br/><i>Like the Sun, Dream shines.</i></p>
  <p>    <i>    And somehow, it works.</i><br/></p>
</blockquote>In which polar opposites (kind of) attempt to find each other in the middle.
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Clay | Dream &amp; Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>food for the dnfers [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2191971</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>81</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Archivist Prompt Challenges, Archivists Font Challenge</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>the distance we would go (to a place in-between)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/honeyyhop/gifts">honeyyhop</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>HELLO! i come bearing sun and moon au AND college au (omg what??) i loved writing this fic, which is strange bc i usually really struggle with fluff LMFAO</p><p>this fic was heavily inspired by this song:</p><p>  <a href="https://open.spotify.com/track/3ehrCQoouv7NW8LRgcMvRF?si=VgzLBpCyTjWXzqetXkkY9Q">is your bedroom ceiling bored? - sody &amp; cavetown</a></p><p>this was also written for a font challenge with my friends! i used the comic sans font, which was suggested by bee! i still don't understand why everyone hates it D:</p><p>prompt: if i had a flower for every time i thought of you, i could walk in my garden forever</p><p>enjoy!! &lt;3</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <b> <em><span class="u">the moon</span> </em> </b>
</p><p> </p><p>A red pick-up truck roared past George, channeling a gust of wind down the sidewalk and forcing him to clutch the homework pages closer to his chest with a small grunt. His computer science professor hadn’t been kind with the workload for this weekend; she had handed off nearly 50-pages worth of reading to be completed, as well as several coding worksheets due the next week. </p><p> </p><p>Several times now, George had wondered why, exactly, he had chosen to study abroad in the United States. The costs of studying and staying here were incredibly high, and the workload that was dumped on him every Friday had started to prove that maybe going to university in the UK may had been the better option. Late night studying and early morning classes were expected by George - especially going into his second year of college - but what he wasn’t expecting was being neck-deep in assignments, essays, and coding projects so soon in the semester. It was only October.</p><p> </p><p>“Why haven’t you put all of those in your bag?”</p><p> </p><p>George readjusted his grip on the papers against his chest, scrunching up his nose as another gust of wind smacked him in the face. “Bag’s full already,” he grumbled, stepping on an orange leaf to make it crunch. “Prof cursed us with almost sixty pages of reading and work for the weekend. I’m starting to think she hates us all.”</p><p> </p><p>George felt a warm palm land on his shoulder, and turned to see Clay, or Dream, as George tends to call him (courtesy of his disgustingly optimistic outlook on life), smiling down at him. “I’ll carry it for you,” Dream offered, reaching out his hands to take the papers from George’s clutches. “You look exhausted.”</p><p> </p><p>George sighed. “Yeah, I could do with a hot chocolate before we head back to the dorms.” He handed Dream the papers, the weight of it vanishing from his arms, and relief flooded into his aching back and shoulders. George rolled his shoulders and neck with a content hum, the ache slowly dissipating from his bones. “Thanks.”</p><p> </p><p>Dream huffed out an acknowledgment, shifting the papers into his chest like George had done a few minutes prior, and continued to walk down the sidewalk to a nearby coffee shop; dusty blonde hair blowing in the cool autumn breeze.</p><p> </p><p>George had met Dream at a college chess club in their first year of college. Dream had been so cocky and adamant that he would win, but George took the victory with a smug smile; and thus, a friendship was born. Somewhere down the line, George had developed an admiration for Dream. Despite him being more whimsical and philosophical than George, (for he much preferred the straight hard facts rather than “could be’s” and “what ifs”) Dream had certainly made an impact on George’s life in more ways than one.</p><p> </p><p>Ahead of him, the blond turned around with a teasing grin. “Come on, slow poke. The coffee shop will be closing soon.”</p><p> </p><p>George blinked: he hadn’t realised that he had stopped moving after losing the papers, and a familiar warmth bloomed in his chest, prompting George to continue walking down the sidewalk dawned with a small smile. </p><p> </p><p>“You staying out here?” George asked as they neared the shop - though it was more of a confirmation than anything. He peeked at Dream from the corner of his eyes and noticed him nod once.</p><p> </p><p>Dream was never one for coffee. Once, shortly after they first met, Dream had entered George’s apartment to study but immediately rushed to the bathroom upon smelling George’s morning coffee. Since then, George made an effort to avoid drinking coffee around him, which meant that it wasn’t very often that he could down the beverage, even for last-minute-studying-energy -- but he didn’t mind. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Coffee was bad for you anyway. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>“Alright. Back in a moment,” George reassured, sticking one hand into his jean pocket and pushing the other against the shop door; the bell’s toll jingling throughout the store. The barista lifted his head, and upon seeing George, flipped a tea towel over his shoulder, his face breaking out into a wide grin.</p><p> </p><p>“Georgie! My man!”</p><p> </p><p>“Hey Sapnap,” George replied with a yawn. “How’re you? Been busy today?”</p><p> </p><p>Sapnap chuckled and grabbed a take-out cup from under the countertop. “Usual Friday madness. Gets real crazy here during lunch so I can’t wait to go home because I'm so close to falling asleep standing up!” He turned around to open the refrigerator behind him, but looked back at George before doing so. “Hot chocolate, yeah?”</p><p> </p><p>George nodded, producing a leather wallet from his jean pocket. “Please. A bottle of water and one of those chocolate chip cookies you do as well.”</p><p> </p><p>Sapnap opened the refrigerator door to grab a carton of milk - the cool breeze almost reaching George - and turned back towards the counter with raised eyebrows and a knowing smile. “He’s walking you home, huh?”</p><p> </p><p>George huffed and frowned at the teasing look on Sapnap’s face, silently wishing that he could slap it off. “We live in the same dorm complex, idiot.”</p><p> </p><p>“He’s still walking you home.”</p><p> </p><p>“Shut up.”</p><p> </p><p>Sapnap shoved a jug of milk under a machine and held up his hands in mock surrender, but the smile remained on his lips. George rolled his eyes, the machine making a hissing sound so loud that any rebuttal would fall upon deaf ears.</p><p> </p><p>The thing was, George <em> knew </em> that Dream liked him. It was blatantly obvious that the guy had feelings for him - there was very little that Dream could hide as an expressive person. But, while Dream was probably the most intelligent person George had ever met, besides himself, he was awfully dense at the worst times, because George liked him back.</p><p> </p><p>And although George reciprocated Dream’s feelings, George - unbeknownst to him - was the most difficult person to read. </p><p> </p><p>They were contrasting people, with similar feelings, stuck in a constant loop of mystery and stolen glances.</p><p> </p><p>George was waiting for Dream to take the bait- to take the step- while also providing the stepping stones for him, but Dream didn’t even realise that the feelings were mutual.</p><p> </p><p>Call it teamwork; or, two guys playing a brainless game of “pin the tail on the pony”, except the tail is communication, and the pony is a relationship.</p><p> </p><p>When Sapnap slid a steaming take-out cup across the counter, along with a bottle of water and a bagged cookie, George pushed a crinkled $15 note in his direction and told him to keep the change.</p><p> </p><p>Sapnap swiped the note away and clicked his tongue, meeting George’s tired eyes. “If you guys don’t do something soon, I’m gonna take matters into my own hands.”</p><p> </p><p>“Okay, Sapnap,” George mumbled, grabbing his hot chocolate with one hand, and the water and cookie with the other. Bad decision. The hot chocolate was… hot. He readjusted his grip on the hot beverage, and instead, held it by the lid.</p><p> </p><p>Sapnap frowned. “I’m serious, George—” George turned away from the counter with a lazy smile, “—I’m gonna lock you both in your dorm until you—”</p><p> </p><p>“Bye, Sapnap!” George called over his shoulder, raising a full hand in an attempt to wave goodbye. “Don’t die on your way home!”</p><p> </p><p>As the door closed behind George with a chime, the last thing he heard was Sapnap laughing to himself. George smiled and offered Dream - who was slouched against a lamppost - the water bottle and cookie. “For you. Sapnap says hi.”</p><p> </p><p>He watched as Dream’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion, but he took the water and cookie from George’s hands anyway, the corners of his lips quirking up into a small smile. “Thank you. Hi back.”</p><p> </p><p>George hummed, and noticed the absence of his computer science papers. “Where’s all my homework gone?” </p><p> </p><p>“I put it in my bag,” Dream admitted while unwrapping the cookie from its bag, crumbs tumbling to the pavement below. “It’s easier to carry it that way, and I can give them back when we get home.”</p><p> </p><p>George smiled. <em> Home. </em> They didn’t even live together, but they still called it home. George reckoned that he was reading into the notion too much - that it didn’t mean <em> that </em> much - but the pool of warmth still stirred in George’s chest, and he fought it from appearing on his cheeks, afraid that dusk wouldn’t be dark enough to conceal it. “Oh, thanks.”</p><p> </p><p>Dream hummed and shoved the crumbling cookie into his mouth before turning away from George to continue their walk down the sidewalk. George followed, cupping cold hands around the steaming cup before him, and breathing in the delicious chocolate-y aroma.</p><p> </p><p>After a moment, Dream faced George and spoke through a full mouth. “Why’d you get me this?” Dream then lifted his hands, gesturing to the food and drink in his clutches.</p><p> </p><p>George lifted his shoulders in a shrug, and swallowing back a bubbling laugh at the sight of Dream mumbling around the cookie crumbs and chocolate in his mouth. “You said you were hungry earlier,” he replied distantly. To be honest, he hadn’t thought anything much of the kind gesture, but suddenly became aware of <em> what </em> he did. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Well, that was fairly obvious; Dream had to have realised something, right? </em>
</p><p> </p><p>He broke his gaze with Dream, suddenly becoming intrigued in the way hot steam drifted out of his cup and into the cold autumnal air, ignoring the churning feeling of anticipation in his gut. He blew out of his mouth, the air in front of him transforming into a small misty cloud. “No biggie.”</p><p> </p><p>Dream nudged an elbow into George’s arm, momentarily throwing him off balance with a chuckle. “Sure.”</p><p> </p><p>George glanced to his side, catching Dream’s warm eyes - something that always made George soften at the edges - and immediately relaxed, falling into step with Dream. Dry leaves crunched beneath their feet; Dream sometimes even changing his direction or foot placements just so he could step on the “best ones”, each crunch making them both smile a little wider.</p><p> </p><p>It was these innocent things-- things that went unspoken-- that George treasured the most. He appreciated the smaller things in life, like making the effort to crunch leaves on the sidewalk, because it added a little bit more happiness to his day. He would carry those moments with him like building blocks; as though if they hadn't have happened, he wouldn’t be the person he was yesterday, today, or tomorrow. It was like growth, but the kind that went unnoticed.</p><p> </p><p>George adored those moments.</p><p> </p><p>He watched as Dream shoved the last of the cookie into his mouth and stepped onto another leaf, the crisp crunch swallowed around his sneakers. Blonde wisps drooped over his forehead at the momentum, brushing the tops of his eyebrows. He lifted his head, brushing the hair back with a calloused hand, and sent George a toothy grin; bits of cookie stuck in his teeth.</p><p> </p><p>The sight should’ve been gross, but George thought he looked absolutely radiant.</p><p> </p><p>Dream eyed the steaming cup in George’s grasp and scrunched up the paper bag that the cookie was in, turning to the left and throwing the paper into a trash can. “Do you wanna hang out for a bit longer?”</p><p> </p><p>George raised his eyebrows and took a cautious sip of his hot chocolate, the heated liquid settling on his tongue before sliding down his throat to warm his insides like a comforting hug. “Don’t you have any work to do?”</p><p> </p><p>“It’s Friday, George,” Dream deadpanned, unscrewing the cap of his water and taking a quick swig. “Homework is done on the weekends.”</p><p> </p><p>“Is that why most of your work is overdue?”</p><p> </p><p>Dream scoffed and reached to grab George playfully around the neck; but George avoided the attack with a squeak, bringing his hot chocolate into his chest for protection. Instead, Dream settled one arm around George’s shoulder, pulling him closer to his side as they strolled down the pavement.</p><p> </p><p>George shivered at the close proximity, and took another sip of his drink to mask the heat rising up his neck.</p><p> </p><p>“My work is <em> not </em> overdue. I’m a good student.”</p><p> </p><p>George hummed, unconvinced, and shoved an elbow into Dream’s side, causing him to recoil with a grunt, but the arm didn’t leave George’s shoulders. “Show me that email you got from your English Prof the other week then.”</p><p> </p><p>Dream let out a sarcastic laugh- the kind that really took the piss- and sent George a look from the corner of his eyes. “No.”</p><p> </p><p>“Then I have no choice but to call you a liar,” George huffed out dramatically, a glimpse of a smile tugging at the corner of his lips, and he placed a hand on his chest, feigning pain. “I can’t believe that you would lie to <em> me! </em>”</p><p> </p><p>Dream stared at George, his smile growing as George failed to withhold his acting over several seconds. George rolled his eyes and dropped the pained act, stealing a glance at Dream’s bright face.</p><p> </p><p>“You’re such an idiot,” Dream grinned down at him, the shadow of a dimple making an appearance on his left cheek. George noticed that Dream’s freckles weren’t so visible anymore.</p><p> </p><p><em> And, that name again</em>. </p><p> </p><p>It was as if it was becoming a pet name. George wasn’t complaining, though, it was obvious that Dream liked him. <em> When would he make a move? </em> </p><p> </p><p>George returned a lopsided grin. “It’s getting dark,” he noted, absentmindedly swirling his cup. “Let’s go to the park. You can tell me about the stars.” <em> And maybe more. </em></p><p> </p><p>The park was a short distance up the road, and was more a children’s park than anything; with a set of swings, monkey bars, and a roundabout amongst other things that kids liked to play on. As George expected, the play area was empty. He finished the last sips of his hot chocolate, throwing it in a nearby trash can, and swung himself up to sit on top of the monkey bars.</p><p> </p><p>George faced Dream expectantly, but he was stood below George, gazing up at him with a distant smile. George quirked up an eyebrow, retracting his hands into the sleeves of his sweatshirt. “You coming up?”</p><p> </p><p>A cool breeze whipped around the play area and Dream shoved his hands into his hoodie pockets, his face scrunched up in distaste. “No way. I’m cool down here.”</p><p> </p><p>“Come on, Dream.”</p><p> </p><p>“Nope.”</p><p> </p><p>George rolled his eyes, the ghost of a smile on his lips. He couldn’t help but tease Dream for his fear of being a <em> few </em> feet off the ground. “How are you gonna tell me about the stars from down there?”</p><p> </p><p>“By projecting my voice.”</p><p> </p><p>“Shut up and get up here,” George teased, patting the frame underneath him in encouragement. “It’s only like six feet off the ground, you’re used to that height. You’ll be fine.”</p><p> </p><p>“That doesn’t even make sense,” Dream retorted, “being tall is different than <em> sitting </em> six feet off the ground.” He hesitated, and looked at the monkey bars as though it had shat in his breakfast, before catching George’s reassuring eyes with a grimace.</p><p> </p><p>George offered a slender hand, leaning over his legs in an attempt to reassure Dream that it was okay. Dream stepped forward and took George’s hand. It was warm and rough and <em> real. </em> He swallowed thickly as Dream rounded the monkey bars and steadily climbed up the side to perch next to George on top. Dream was shivering; but otherwise okay.</p><p> </p><p>George smiled at him. “See? Not so bad.”</p><p> </p><p>Dream glanced at George, then down at the ground, and then back at George. “Yeah,” he breathed, his face considerably close to George’s. “Not so bad.”</p><p> </p><p>George turned away from Dream, titling his head up to gaze at the night sky instead. Scattered clouds dorned the deep navy abyss above that stretched on for thousands and thousands of lightyears, the depth of the unknown and mystery. Through the clouds, peaked the stars; dotted across the darkened canvas, adding that bit of light to the vast cosmos pool. </p><p> </p><p><em> Hope:</em> George had liked to think. Slivers of brightness in a darkened period. Something promising, something kind. Always there, always waiting; for anyone.</p><p> </p><p>Everyone would get their own star.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> When would George get his? </em>
</p><p> </p><p>He took in a shallow breath, his slim fingers lightly brushing against rough ones. <em> They were still holding hands. </em></p><p> </p><p>George went to pull away, but Dream tightened his grip around George, and pulled him into his side; forcing George’s cheek to mush into his shoulder. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Well. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Dream bit down a snort, uttering an apology before lifting their intertwined hands up so that George could slot underneath his arm.</p><p> </p><p>George tensed and bit the inside of his cheek. This was new. This was good. <em> Progress. </em> He wasn’t going to complain, Dream was comfortable. After a moment, he let himself relax into Dream’s side with a sigh; warmth enveloping him and sinking into his tired bones. </p><p> </p><p>Dream lifted a steady hand to trace the sky above them- probably a constellation- but George couldn’t quite make out which stars he was joining together with imaginary lines. “Scorpius,” he spoke softly, his chest vibrating against George’s temple.</p><p> </p><p>George titled his head up, his nose centimetres from Dream’s jaw, to see his eyebrows furrowed in interest. George could only <em> just </em> make out his warming golden orbs, though they were slightly duller in the darkness of the night. “What?” George whispered.</p><p> </p><p>Dream’s hand dropped back into his lap, his gaze lingering on the sky for a moment longer, before he looked down at George with a smile. “The constellation of your zodiac. Scorpio.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, apparently it means I’m jealous, obsessive and mysterious,” George huffed out, twisting his head back to the sky, the crescent moon making an appearance behind a thin cloud above. And, for a moment so brief that George wondered if he had imagined it; Dream’s fingers tightened around George’s.</p><p> </p><p>“Maybe so,” Dream spoke, the sound of a gentle smile evident in his voice. “But Scorpios are also determined, loyal and brave.”</p><p> </p><p>George bit back a smile, keeping his eyes trained on the moon ahead. “Do you think that’s true about me?”</p><p> </p><p>Dream didn’t answer for a moment, his thumb gently running up and down George’s. The action sent warming sensations into the pit of George’s stomach, licking his insides like a gentle fire; careful, delicate, comforting. Then Dream moved, slipping his arm from George’s shoulders, and turning to face him with a nervous smile. They weren’t holding hands anymore, but Dream’s knee knocked against George’s.</p><p> </p><p>“I don’t think a personality should be confined to the expectations of stars and constellations,” Dream breathed, his tone wobbling slightly. He paused, looking up at George through his eyelashes before continuing; “Because you are so much more than that, George.”</p><p> </p><p>George chuckled to mask his racing heart and reddening cheeks, “careful, Dream, your Leo is showing.”</p><p> </p><p>“Which part?” Dream grinned, blinking slowly. He turned away and looked back into the night sky. “What do the stars say about me?”</p><p> </p><p>From this angle, George could see all of Dream; his messy blonde hair flopping over the sides, his thick furrowed eyebrows as he gazed at the glittering balls of gas above them, the slant and slope of his lightly freckled nose, his lips pulled into a slight curve. </p><p> </p><p>Dream <em> shined. </em> He was his own source of light.</p><p> </p><p>George often likened Dream to the Sun; fiery, bright, spontaneous. He was a man full of optimism, creativity, and inspiring forces that could not be reckoned with. He was strong, as well as gentle; spreading his light and warmth to those around him. But the Sun couldn’t hide, the Sun was truthful.</p><p> </p><p>“You’re honest.”</p><p> </p><p>Dream faced George again, muted golden orbs meeting brown, and smiled. “Honest.”</p><p> </p><p>They stayed like that for a few moments; gazing into each other’s eyes, gentle smiles on their faces, waiting for the other to make the first move. Then, Dream’s lips parted and he let out a breath. George raised an eyebrow, expecting- <em> wanting- </em> Dream to say something, but he didn’t.</p><p> </p><p>Dream was the first to break eye contact; he glanced down at the ground and rubbed his thighs. “Do you wanna head back?” He asked hesitantly, not meeting George’s eyes. He lifted his wrist and checked his watch, noting the time. “It’s getting late.”</p><p> </p><p>A strike of disappointment hit George, but he nodded and jumped from the frame, landing on the ground with a soft thud. He turned back to watch Dream descend the ladder on the side of the frame; every step more careful than the previous one.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Dream had wanted to say something. Why didn’t he? </em>
</p><p> </p><p>George shook his head and pinched his nose, running his fingers underneath his eyes and around his mouth before letting out a yawn. He checked his own watch and realised that it was nearing 10PM - he didn’t expect it to be <em> that </em> late.</p><p> </p><p>He lifted his head to see Dream bending down to pick up his bag, then hauling it over his shoulder and turning to face George with a grin. “Let’s go, Georgie.”</p><p> </p><p>George rolled his eyes, shouldering his own bag, and walked out of the play area; the night’s cold breeze rushing against his face, forcing George’s shoulders to hunch up to protect his neck. From his side, Dream let out a chuckle. “Cold?”</p><p> </p><p>“A bit,” George muttered, tightly crossing his arms over his chest to retain <em> some </em> sort of body heat. He cursed himself for not taking a jacket with him to college, despite the weather being rather pleasant this morning.</p><p> </p><p>He felt the pressure of a hand on his back, and when he turned to his right, Dream was there, smirking down at him with a mischievous glint in his eye. George knew Dream well enough to realise that it was time to be spontaneous.</p><p> </p><p>“Let’s race back.”</p><p> </p><p>George sent him a look. “It’s like two blocks away.”</p><p> </p><p>“It’ll warm you up!” Dream pressed, jutting out his bottom lip for emphasis. </p><p> </p><p>George bit his lip, suppressing a smile as Dream’s eyes briefly flickered down to the motion. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> A moment of weakness. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>George suddenly pushed off the balls of his feet, grabbing the straps of his bag and pulling them down to tighten the bag to his back, the adjustment instantly making it easier for him to sprint away from a perplexed Dream. At the rush, a bellowing laugh tumbled from George’s mouth, the sound echoing down the empty street and into the night. </p><p> </p><p>It was fun. It was innocent. It was one of those moments.</p><p> </p><p>A moment later, George could hear the thudding of Dream’s sneakers against concrete steadily approaching behind him, encouraging him to push harder; a wild grin on his face. He dodged lampposts, trash cans, pop-up boards that store workers had accidentally neglected outside their stores - all the while, Dream’s deep chuckle could be heard a few paces away.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, George!” Dream called out, the sound of a grin danced in his tone. George let out a hideous giggle- the kind when you’re out of breath but also absolutely terrified- and dodged around a corner leading up the street of their dorms.</p><p> </p><p>He felt a brief brush of a hand on his shoulder, but George slipped to the left to avoid Dream’s grasp, letting out a guffaw and forcing Dream to grunt in annoyance. George dived to the right, stretching out a desperate open hand to press onto the dormitory complex’s door, and barrelled it open.</p><p> </p><p>The dodge surprised Dream, and George whipped around just in time to almost see him trip over his own feet. A high pitched giggle crawled out of George’s throat as he slipped through the doorway; pulling Dream’s eyes up to his face.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, you little—” Dream started, an evil smile on his lips. He reached out to grab the door handle, but George slammed it shut and pressed himself against it, locking his knees into place, and trapping Dream outside.</p><p> </p><p>A muffled <em> “bitch” </em> could be heard through the door, and George laughed. Dream leant against the door, his forehead and nose were both pressed against the glass, and he pouted at George, blinking his eyes in quick succession, which made George laugh so hard his sides hurt. And thus, George’s push on the door weakened, enabling Dream to attempt a push through, but it quickly failed after George composed himself with a sly grin.</p><p> </p><p>“You’re not getting through,” he called through the door with a slight laugh, the window fogging up with his breath.</p><p> </p><p>Dream rolled his eyes, a quick grin flitting onto his lips. “Sure thing,” he mouthed through the glass window. George watched as Dream stepped away from the door, rolling his neck, and flexing his wrists and hands with a smirk.</p><p> </p><p>George quickly realised that Dream was going to charge through the door, but made no effort to move out of the way or strengthen his stance against the door. Instead, he raised his eyebrows at Dream, challenging him. But Dream’s smirk only widened, clear confidence and cockiness overwhelming him. George had to suppress a laugh at the sight. </p><p> </p><p>He thought Dream looked absolutely ridiculous; but also kind of adorable.</p><p> </p><p>Suddenly, Dream was sprinting towards the door; a wicked glint in his eye and his strides full of purpose. George didn’t move until the very last second, throwing himself to the side of the door frame, clear out of Dream’s way and leaving the door with zero resistance.</p><p> </p><p>The door slammed on its hinges and Dream had no time to react: he barrelled through the door with a cry, the momentum from his charge pushed his body into the foyer as he desperately tried to stop himself from tripping over. Alas, his attempts were unsuccessful, and bubbling laughter erupted from George’s stomach as Dream tumbled to the floor - face first.</p><p> </p><p>George doubled over, clutching his stomach because it <em> hurt </em> to laugh this much. And- <em> oh my God- </em> that was the funniest thing he had ever seen.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh my God!” George giggled, wiping a tear that had fallen down his cheek. “I can’t believe you actually fell for that!”</p><p> </p><p>A disgruntled grunt came from Dream’s lumped body on the floor. He hadn’t made any effort to pick himself up, perhaps the humiliation of his fall played a part in that.</p><p> </p><p>George’s laugher died down slightly, only weak hiccups escaping his throat, and he wandered over to where Dream pathetically laid on the cold tiled floor. “Get up, idiot. The floor’s dirty.”</p><p> </p><p>“Comfy,” Dream mumbled into the beige tiles. His eyes were shut, but his eyebrows were furrowed in discomfort - George had to stuff a fist into his mouth to prevent another laugh from escaping. He crouched down beside Dream’s face, and reached out a tentative hand to sweep back some hair that had fallen over his forehead. Dream’s eyelids twitched.</p><p> </p><p>It was soft. George wanted to run his hands through it more, but instead he moved his hand to Dream’s shoulder, gently shaking him up. “C’mon, Dream,” George muttered softly. “I need my homework back.”</p><p> </p><p>A groan: “Apologise. My head hurts.”</p><p> </p><p>“No.”</p><p> </p><p>Dream twisted his head to the side, craning his neck up to meet George’s eyes with <em> another </em> pout. “Please, Gogy.”</p><p> </p><p>George rolled his eyes, a teasing smile making its way onto his lips. “How about I kiss it better?” He mused; snorting when Dream’s eyes widened slightly. “Get up.”</p><p> </p><p>Pushing against his elbows to raise himself from the ground, Dream let out a grunt and brushed off the dirt and dust that had clung to his clothes before lifting his eyes to George with an innocent smile. “Where’s my kiss then, Georige?”</p><p> </p><p>“You’re such a beg,” George sighed and stuck out an open hand. “Homework first.”</p><p> </p><p>After a moment of shuffling and a jammed bag zip; the weight of many, <em> many</em>, pages landed in George’s hands. He adjusted the stack of papers to a more comfortable position in his hands, then looked up to meet Dream’s expectant eyes.</p><p> </p><p>The thing was, George’s dorm was on the first level, whereas Dream’s was on the ground floor. Since they were in the lobby, there was no chance of George weaseling his way out of this one, and Dream was adamant.</p><p> </p><p>“So…” Dream whistled out, rocking back and forth on his heels, eyes trained on George’s.</p><p> </p><p>“It’s late Dream,” George spoke hesitantly, “I should—” He went to turn around, headed for the stairs, but was stopped by a firm hand on his shoulder.</p><p> </p><p>“But you promised a forehead kiss, George,” Dream teased, eyebrows wiggling. “I’m not letting you out of this one.” He placed a hand onto his forehead, a contorted expression of feigned pain took over his features, and whined; “My head still hurts!”</p><p> </p><p>George turned and bit his lip. <em> Now or never, right? </em></p><p> </p><p>With Dream distracted by his own dramatic play-up, George grabbed the collar of his grey sweater with one hand - the material balled up in a pale fist - and pulled Dream’s face down to his level, pressing warm lips against soft skin. He heard Dream take in a quick breath, immediately flushed, and let go of Dream’s sweater.</p><p> </p><p>It was silent; the only sound was George’s rapid breathing. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> This bastard better fucking realise that George is in love with him. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Dream brought up a hesitant hand to his cheek- <em> yes, his cheek- </em> and his fingers barely dragged across the skin where George’s lips had planted; a shocked expression mixed with flushing red took over his face. “I— I didn’t think you’d <em> actually </em> do it!”</p><p> </p><p><em> Did he go too far? </em> Dream had asked for the kiss; but George went for the cheek instead of his forehead. <em> Was that a mistake? Too bold? </em></p><p> </p><p>George stepped back, converse scuffing against the tiles, clutching his homework papers closer to his chest, sharp paper edges digging into his skin. It didn’t hurt. “I’m… sorry?”</p><p> </p><p>Dream’s wide eyes melted; a gentle smile settled on top of his initial shock. “I’m not forgiving you,” he started, clicking his tongue and pointing an accusing finger in George’s face. “You missed.”</p><p> </p><p>George immediately felt his muscles relax. He was fine. They were fine. It was fine.</p><p> </p><p>He left out a huff, raised his eyebrows at Dream, and turned away to make his way to the stairs - converse squeaking as he did so. “That’s all you’re getting,” he called over his shoulder, not sparing Dream another glance as he began to climb the stairs up to his dorm.</p><p> </p><p>“We’ll see about that.”</p><p> </p><p>George craned his neck back to a smiling Dream. It wasn’t a smirk, or a teasing grin - <em> of course it wasn’t. </em> It was genuine, it was a challenge-- a <em> promise. </em> Was this Dream finally realising? He had spoken with so much confidence that George was inclined to believe that he was being honest.</p><p> </p><p>And here they were:</p><p> </p><p>George; leaning against the stairwell railings, a protection of sorts, a lifeline, a chance to hold on if he slipped away, determined but wary, wary but resilient.</p><p> </p><p>And Dream; loosely standing in the middle of the foyer, nothing to grab, swimming in an open abyss, strong but vulnerable, vulnerable but honest.</p><p> </p><p>It was stupidly ironic, really, that the idea of the two of them was becoming somewhat tangible.</p><p> </p><p>George smiled. “Goodnight, Dream.” <em> Idiot</em>.</p><p> </p><p>A soft pause: “‘Night, George.”</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>George thought Dream as the Sun and, <em> well— </em> the Sun was a star. </p><p> </p><p>Only in Dream’s light could George’s vivid hues sing so loud.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> George had found his star, and it was the best one. </em>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><hr/><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span class="u"> <b> <em>the sun</em> </b> </span>
</p><p> </p><p>His leg twitched: that’s what woke up Dream at 8:30am the next morning. </p><p> </p><p>Crusty eyes and cracked lips attempted to open as the Saturday morning light shined through a slim crack in his curtains. </p><p> </p><p>He cursed. Sometimes it was nicer to have a lie in.</p><p> </p><p>Flinging his arms above his head - accidentally smacking them against the headboard with a grunt - Dream stretched out his tired limbs, attempting to shake away the stiffness, and let out a loud yawn. He then relaxed and blinked at the ceiling. “Christ,” he muttered, before twisting to his nightstand to grab his phone and switching it on.</p><p> </p><p>The display showed a goodnight text from George. Dream smiled and reacted to the message with a heart.</p><p> </p><p>He thought back to last night- in the foyer, and <em> that </em> kiss-- A hand smacked against his forehead, and then dragged down his cheeks, stretching the skin as it went, before landing on his chest. </p><p> </p><p>He ought to stop thinking about <em> that thing</em>, because it was hardly anything, though Dream had hoped that it was <em> something. </em></p><p> </p><p>A tired sigh escaped his lips as he pushed his head back into the pillow, and his eyes fluttered shut again.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> George. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>He could never tell what the man was thinking- <em> ever. </em> But George knew everything about Dream; what his facial expressions meant, what his body language would insinuate, and even the way he <em> walked. </em> Dream thought it was ridiculous- how much George could actually <em> see </em> just by looking at him- but also strangely endearing.</p><p> </p><p>George was a very observant being; he always had ever since they met the previous year. Dream reckoned that was why George challenged him to a chess game when he first entered the club room; <em>because George knew he could knock some sense into a cocky bastard. </em></p><p> </p><p>In all honesty, Dream had it coming. Usually, though, he would’ve been incredibly bummed if he lost, for he was a sore loser (obviously), but oddly enough, Dream had allowed the loss with minor complaint -- if you’d call aggressively challenging George to a rematch a “minor” reaction. </p><p> </p><p>He just wanted to secure the chances of seeing George again. Could you blame him?</p><p> </p><p>Dream had been harbouring certain <em> feelings </em> for his best friend since last year’s spring break, when they went for a road trip up to visit New York City. The <em> exact moment </em> Dream realised that something was slightly amiss was when George wanted a hot chocolate from a coffee shop. And, of course, Dream doesn’t do coffee, but before he could say anything about it, George had asked what he wanted from the shop - offering to get it for him.</p><p> </p><p>That moment, on a freezing cold New York City street at the end of February, was when Dream started falling, and falling <em> hard. </em> And, funnily enough, the same moment that his confidence around George sizzled out.</p><p> </p><p>The rest of the trip, he was mostly a babbling nervous mess, but he had managed to pull through with little to no suspicion, or Dream had hoped. If George had noticed a change in Dream’s behaviour, he hadn’t made it obvious.</p><p> </p><p>In fact, the night before when George brought out a water bottle and cookie for Dream on the whim, <em> again, </em> reminded Dream of when he started catching feelings for George. It was the simplest things that George could do, and Dream would be head over heels for him. It was somewhat pathetic, and in the back of his mind, Dream knew that, but couldn’t care less.</p><p> </p><p>A car horn blared from the street outside, effectively startling Dream back to reality. On cue, his stomach rumbled, so he tore the bedcovers away from him and stumbled out of bed with another stretch. Stuffing his feet into a pair of sliders, Dream trudged out of his room and into the open space of his sitting area and kitchen; golden sunrise light spilling through cracked curtains and onto his countertops.</p><p> </p><p>A day old pizza sat on the counter, half-eaten and cold. Dream huffed. He should’ve stored that away properly so it wouldn’t have gone off. He picked it up and turned to chuck it into the trash can, the lid slamming against the wall with a crack. Dream let out another yawn, rubbing the slight stubble along his jaw and making a mental note to shave it off later on.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> But George once said that stubble looked “alright” on him. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Dream groaned, silently cursing himself and his thoughts out. He needed to stop thinking about George all the time, but the boy was <em> consuming </em> him. </p><p> </p><p>He leant against the countertop, arms stretched out and his head hanging between them. No matter what Dream did to get over his stupid crush on George, he was always brought back after George does <em> one little thing </em> that reminds Dream of why he liked him in the first place. Because George was kind, and funny, and sweet, and considerate, and absolutely gorgeous. </p><p> </p><p>And his hair-- <em> God, his hair-- </em> it looked so fluffy and soft, and it was even better when George hadn’t had a haircut in a while because then it would fall over his forehead, almost brushing his eyebrows. And when he combed a hand through it whenever he was thinking <em> really hard </em>, tufts of hair would stick up in all kinds of directions and he would look absolutely adorable like that. The hues of brown on George’s head were every kind of relaxation to Dream’s soul and he felt that if he could run his hands through it, he’d feel whole again, as if it had the power to replenish.</p><p> </p><p>And George in the morning was a whole other ethereal being. Whenever they would meet up first thing in the morning - when both of their eyes were tired, hair was scruffy, limbs were stiff, and smiles were soft - Dream would take the time to really <em> admire </em> George in the light of the morning. Because George reflected the Sun’s rays, as well as being highlighted by them. He really was God’s gift - or so Dream thought. </p><p> </p><p>Wherever George went, he <em> glowed</em>. He would guide you through the dark without a second thought because that was <em> who he was.</em> It often made Dream compare George to the Moon; constant, reliable, straightforward. George was sensible, trustworthy, and loyal; traits that Dream treasured and admired. But the Moon could hide, the Moon could deceive.</p><p> </p><p>The Moon was often a mystery, and so was George.</p><p> </p><p>Despite knowing the guy for over a year, Dream had never been able to read George, which made liking him so much harder because Dream couldn’t tell if the feelings were mutual. It meant that Dream tended to overthink things, like <em> the kiss. </em></p><p> </p><p>Because <em> surely </em> that was something? They even held hands, and George didn’t let go.</p><p> </p><p>Dream pushed off the counter, and dove into a cupboard to grab a carton of eggs - on a mission to make breakfast to take his mind off George. He waltzed around the kitchen, at one point turning on some music to bop his head to, as he made a bacon omelette and cream cheese bagels, thinking about what the day could entail for him.</p><p> </p><p>He had an essay to write for next week; a piece on The Great Gatsby, a novel that he’s read more times than he could count, so it shouldn’t take long for him to finish. Then maybe he could ask George if he wanted to do something today? Perhaps Dream could invite him around for dinner… He shook his head. That would be far too obvious - even for him.</p><p> </p><p>Sliding the omelette and bagels onto a plate, he wandered towards the dining table and took a seat, the chair creaking slightly under his weight. The curtains hanging from the windows to his left danced in the wind, since a window was left cracked open from the night before. It was warm, and it was bright.</p><p> </p><p>Dream smiled to himself through a bagel, the cream cheese catching his cheek. As he lifted a hand to wipe it away, his eyes landing on a collage of photos plastered onto the wall opposite him across the table. There were photos of him and his family, him and Patches, him with Sapnap, and him and George.</p><p> </p><p>He hadn’t noticed it before, but George was in a good majority of the photos hanging on the wall. There was one photo that Sapnap had taken during a lunchtime in the college library; Dream had snuck up behind George - who was working on some coding - and wrapped his arms around George’s neck, causing George to lean forwards over his laptop. Dream was facing away from the camera, his head leaning on top of George’s, and George was facing towards the camera but he had partially blocked his face with a hand after spotting Sapnap with his phone - the only thing left uncovered was George’s grin.</p><p> </p><p>Immediately after Sapnap had shown Dream the photo, Dream demanded that he was sent a copy of it so he could print it out. George wasn’t too pleased, but he had a smile on his face the whole time he was complaining about the photo, so Dream printed it anyway.</p><p> </p><p>There was another photo that Dream had taken when he and George were in New York. This picture, though, was just of George. He was stood, with a thick navy blue scarf and matching knitted hat, in the middle of the Brooklyn Bridge path with the city behind him. He was proudly holding a New York style baked pretzel with the biggest grin he could muster; the corners of George’s eyes were creased with laughter, and his cheeks were red with cold. </p><p> </p><p>He looked beautiful.</p><p> </p><p>It was another photo that Dream had immediately insisted he would print.</p><p> </p><p>Swallowing the last of his omelette and taking one last look at the picture of George with a distant smile, Dream picked himself and cleared up the dishes he used for breakfast. </p><p> </p><p>He thought back to today’s plans and asking George to hang out, an idea suddenly flickering into his mind.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> He could invite George over to study, and they could order pizza for lunch. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Dream nodded to himself, confirming his plans, and walked back into his room to pick up the phone. Opening it up, he saw that Sapnap had sent him a message asking if he and George got home okay last night. Dream smiled, his heart warming at Sapnap’s thoughtfulness, and sent a reply assuring their safe arrival home.</p><p> </p><p>Dream’s fingers then danced across the display, swiping and pressing certain buttons to bring up George’s contact details, only to hesitate a few seconds, his bottom lip pulled into his teeth in thought.</p><p> </p><p>It wasn’t too obvious, and besides, he wants George to know he likes him. Right?</p><p> </p><p>Dream thought back to last night on the monkey bars. He was gripping the bars so hard after he let go of George; out of the fear of being high up, but also pent up anticipation on what he was planning to confess.</p><p> </p><p>He had cursed himself for chickening out of the confession; but, sat there, with George smiling and looking at him <em> like he was</em>, sent bags of nerves to his gut. Never had Dream ever been speechless at the eyes of George before, but he had a feeling that it would become a more common occurrence.</p><p> </p><p>Ignoring the bubbling anxiety in his chest, Dream slammed his thumb down onto the call button, and the phone immediately dialled George’s number.</p><p> </p><p>It took a few rings before a raw voice answered. “M’ello?”</p><p> </p><p>“George!”</p><p> </p><p>A groan: “Dream, what the hell? What time is it?”</p><p> </p><p>Dream glanced at his bedside clock. “It’s ten-forty.”</p><p> </p><p>George let out another groan, his throat thick with sleep, and Dream had to hold back a snicker.</p><p> </p><p>“Why’d you call me?” George mumbled, a rustling sound coming from the other end of the phone and then the sound of a door opening. “It’s so early.”</p><p> </p><p>“I was wondering if you wanna come round mine later for pizza and a study hang-out thing?” Dream asked, and held his breath. It shouldn’t be as nerve wracking as it was.</p><p> </p><p>“You only just saw me last night. So eager to see me again, Dream?”</p><p> </p><p>Dream scoffed. “Shut up, idiot. Are you coming or not?”</p><p> </p><p>“I suppose I could make some time for you,” George teased, his voice perking up slightly.</p><p> </p><p>Dream smiled, and his heart warmed. “Cool.”</p><p> </p><p>On the other end of the line, through tired eyes and stiff limbs, George was smiling too.</p><p> </p><p>“Cool.”</p><p> </p><p>Dream coughed, his feet scuffing the floor where he stood in his room. “I’ll see you later, then?”</p><p> </p><p>“See you, Dream.”</p><p> </p><p>“Bye.”</p><p> </p><p>The sound of the line disconnecting beeped through the phone, and Dream threw the device onto his bed before falling onto it himself - head first - and yelling into the bedcovers.</p><p> </p><p>After a moment of self-reflection and a quick evaluation of the situation thus far, Dream picked himself from the bed and made his way into the bathroom to brush his teeth, but was instead confronted with his greasy and dirty reflection in the mirror.</p><p> </p><p>“Fuck’s sake,” he muttered, combing a hand through his knotty locks to observe how dirty his hair actually was. He definitely needed a shower, especially with George coming around shortly. So, he wasted no time in jumping under the hot water.</p><p> </p><p>Just as he was about to step out of the shower, his phone began to ring out from his bedroom. </p><p> </p><p>“Shit.”</p><p> </p><p>Quickly stepping out and grabbing a towel from the rack and wrapping it around his waist, he walked towards the noise, muttering under his breath. He took one look at the contact name, rolled his eyes, and swiped across to answer the call, immediately putting it on speaker.</p><p> </p><p>“Sapnap.”</p><p> </p><p>“Dream!”</p><p> </p><p>“I just got out of the shower,” Dream sighed, making his way back to the bathroom. “Is it important?”</p><p> </p><p>Sapnap let out a wolf whistle. “Are you naked, Dreamie? Show me.”</p><p> </p><p>“What the hell is wrong with you?” Dream laughed, shaking his head and shutting the bathroom door behind him.</p><p> </p><p>“Aw c’mon, Dream. Let me see your sexiness!”</p><p> </p><p>Dream let out a tight wheeze. “No way! I don’t have any socks on, you know the rules.”</p><p> </p><p>“Well I guess that’s fair. You want me to leave so you can get dressed?” Sapnap asked, the sound of tapping keys and then the sound of a booting up computer crackled through the line.</p><p> </p><p>Dream slid down the wall to sit on the floor, legs crossed, and placed the phone beside him. “Nah, it can wait for a little. George is coming over later, though, and I look like shit so I’m gonna tell you to piss off at some point so I can get ready.”</p><p> </p><p>From the other end of the call, Sapnap let out a laugh. “I mean I wouldn’t mind you changing whilst we spoke.” His teasing smirk could be heard through his words, making Dream snort and roll his eyes.</p><p> </p><p>“Sure.”</p><p> </p><p>A short silence enveloped them both and Dream titled his head back, leaning against the wall and gazing up at the ceiling; droplets of water dripping down the back of his neck.</p><p> </p><p>Calls with Sapnap were nice; it was like a breath of fresh air. Like George, Dream had met Sapnap at chess club last spring, and the three of them had been friends since. Recently, however, they were beginning to see less of Sapnap as he took on the barista job at the coffee shop down the street, but they continued to make an effort to see him when they could.</p><p> </p><p>Sapnap suddenly spoke over the clicking of his keys, as if a realisation had just come across him. “Wait- did you say <em> George </em> was coming over?”</p><p> </p><p>Dream let out a sigh. “Yeah, I invited him over for a study-hangout-thing for lunch.”</p><p> </p><p>“Dude,” Sapnap drawled out. The sound of clicking keys had stopped, and his voice seemed closer to the microphone. “You <em> have </em> to make a move.”</p><p> </p><p>“This <em> is </em> me making a move.”</p><p> </p><p>Sapnap groaned, his voice seeming more distant, but then his voice became clear again; “No, I mean <em> a move</em>. Like a proper move! Kiss him or something, I don’t know, man. You can’t just keep dancing around each other.”</p><p> </p><p>“He kissed me last night,” Dream breathed out.</p><p> </p><p>Silence.</p><p> </p><p>“He <em> what?” </em></p><p> </p><p>“He kissed me,” Dream repeated flatly, his fingers playing with the edge of his wet towel. </p><p> </p><p>Sapnap didn’t respond, so Dream continued.</p><p> </p><p>“It was only on the cheek though, and because I asked him to.<em> Well</em>, he had offered to because I had fallen over and hit my head so he offered to ‘kiss it better’ and I kept teasing him about it until he actually kissed me, but it was on the cheek instead and I—”</p><p> </p><p>“Dream, you’re an idiot,” Sapnap deadpanned. “Officially, one of the dumbest people I have ever known.”</p><p> </p><p>Dream stared at the phone beside him, Sapnap’s name - bright and bold - stared back at him, and he gulped. “Sapnap—”</p><p> </p><p>“Shut up. That boy likes you. Hell, he probably even <em> loves </em> you, Dream!” Sapnap cried out, his tone somehow reassuring. “Tell me, dude, when has George ever displayed any kind of affection to anyone that wasn’t like, a punch or something? Like, <em> genuine </em> affection?”</p><p> </p><p>Dream opened his mouth, but no words came out, and his mind went blank. He couldn’t think of any instance where George had been genuinely affectionate, as he usually resorted to light jabs of violence instead. Kisses and hugs weren’t George’s thing.</p><p> </p><p>“But I had teased him about it,” Dream muttered. “He probably felt like it was an obligation.”</p><p> </p><p>A deep sigh crackled through the line. “George can stand up for himself. If he doesn’t want to do something, he wouldn’t do it.”</p><p> </p><p>“I guess that’s true but I don’t know, man,” Dream huffed, picking himself and his phone up from the floor, wandering into his bedroom and plucking clothes out from his drawers. Placing his phone on the bed, he stepped into a pair of sweats and then pulled a cream coloured hoodie over his head; forgetting that his hair was still wet, and let out a slight groan.</p><p> </p><p>“Listen to me, Dream,” Sapnap spoke gently. “This is prime time to shoot your shot, okay? Don’t let it go to waste.”</p><p> </p><p>Dream grabbed his discarded towel from the floor and rubbed it through his hair, silently digesting Sapnap’s advice. </p><p> </p><p>Sure, he could ‘make a move’ but then what happens if what Sapnap said wasn’t true? What if George didn’t like him and Dream would ruin their friendship? What if they never speak again because of him? <em> What if— </em></p><p> </p><p>“Dude, I can almost hear the cogs grinding together in your brain,” Sapnap chuckled, the sound wrapping around Dream like a comforting hug. </p><p> </p><p>This was why Sapnap was so special; he was able comfort and reassure someone even through a phone, miles away. Despite being somewhat brazen at times, Sapnap knew when to wind his neck in and flip his attitude to match someone’s needs.</p><p> </p><p>Dream hung up his towel on the bedroom door and smiled. Sapnap was the greatest friend he could ever ask for - if you didn’t count George.</p><p> </p><p>He grabbed his laptop and his copy of <em> The Great Gatsby </em> - not that he would need it, since he knew most of the themes and quotes already to complete the essay - and strolled into the kitchen, setting up his work on the dining table and placing his phone next to the laptop.</p><p> </p><p>“I just hope you’re right, Sapnap,” Dream called over his shoulder as he padded into the kitchen to grab a glass of water. His damp hair flopped over his forehead, catching his eyes, so he pushed it back with a calloused hand; attempting to blindly style it to <em> at least </em> make himself look presentable.</p><p> </p><p>“I know I’m right,” Sapnap’s faint voice answered. “You’ve got nothing to worry about, man.”</p><p> </p><p>Dream returned to the table, glass in hand, and took a seat in front of the laptop. “What would I even do?” He asks, unsure, despite himself. </p><p> </p><p>He knew what he <em> could </em> do; he could swing an arm around George’s shoulders, tackle him to the floor if he finds a good chance to, ruffle his hair but then never remove his hand; hell, he could even kiss him, but all seem a bit <em> much </em> - even for him.</p><p> </p><p>“Loosen up, be yourself, and when you see an opportunity? You take that shit. Alright?”</p><p> </p><p>Dream scoffed. “That’s easier said than done,” but then adds, “thanks though, Sapnap. I appreciate your help.”</p><p> </p><p>“No problem dude, sometimes you just need a nudge in the right direction and then you’ve got it.”</p><p> </p><p>A sudden knock rapped on Dream’s front door, making him jump from his seat at the table, and rush to his feet - almost toppling over. </p><p> </p><p>“Is that him?” Sapnap’s voice asked.</p><p> </p><p>Dream mumbled out a “yes” and grabbed his phone from the table.</p><p> </p><p>“MAKE SURE YOU KI—”</p><p> </p><p>Sapnap’s shout was cut off when Dream hit the end call button, and he held back a snort, placing his phone back onto the table before turning around to face the door.</p><p> </p><p>He let out a deep breath, mentally preparing himself for the afternoon ahead - it was going to be fine, why was he so nervous? He shook his head and dusted off his hoodie before making his way to the door and peeping through the spy hole to make sure that it <em> was </em>actually George standing behind it.</p><p> </p><p>There he was; a navy sweater hung from his shoulders, and beige corduroy trousers from his hips. His hair was a fluffy mess, as if he had just gotten out of the shower and rubbed it dry with a towel; Dream couldn’t wait to find an excuse to ruffle it, and smiled to himself. </p><p> </p><p>George looked as adorable as always.</p><p> </p><p>He took a steady step back, grabbing the door handle with one hand, and the lock with the other. Dream’s eyes fluttered shut as he unlocked the door, and then opened as his firm hand pressed down on the handle, swinging the door open with a grin.</p><p> </p><p>Dream gazed at him for a moment, the swirling sensation in his stomach only growing. “Hi, George.”</p><p> </p><p>George’s eyes glided down from Dream’s face to his feet, and then back up; a soft smile settled on his lips. “Hello, Dream.”</p><p>
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</p><p>As the Moon, George reflected Dream’s sunny rays, and in doing so became as beautiful as our star in the daytime.</p><p> </p><p>Dream thought George everything beautiful in this world, as if the sight of him would become a song in the eyes of anybody willing to crane their neck upwards; steady and true.</p><p> </p><p>And, like the cycle as old as time, they rise and fall together.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Together, they found their balance. </em>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>hiya :]</p><p>im super proud of the way this fic came out as it took me nearly three weeks to complete!</p><p>so kudos and comments are very appreciated and would make my day - i love reading comments as they really motivate to write more, and kudos are super poggers :]</p><p>and thank you for reading &lt;3</p><p> </p><p>  <a href="https://twitter.com/twcosmofire">FOLLOW ME ON DA BLUE BIRD APP WEBSITE</a></p></blockquote></div></div>
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